If You Want Peace
by Nightfoot
Summary: It's the summer of 1944. Flynn and Yuri are fighter pilots during the Second World War when their plane gets shot down, stranding them in enemy territory. They're in for a dangerous trip back to safety.
1. Crash

A short story that ran away from me and you can now expect 3 parts to be posted over the next couple days. Thanks to Hoskky for helping with the French bits, Suguelya for helping with the German bits, and Silkofscarlet for helping with the British bits.

* * *

**Part I - Crash**

"It's time to head back," Flynn said.

"Already?" Yuri pulled his hands from the controls just long enough to stretch with a yawn. One hand 'accidentally' bumped Flynn's face. "We haven't even had any real action."

Flynn swatted Yuri's hand away. "Do you want to get shot at? I'm happy for an easy night." He fumbled with a chart in his lap and clanged between it, the radar, and the stars visible through the clear cockpit.

"What's taking so long?" Yuri asked.

"I need to double check out position because somebody took us off course on a wild goose chase halfway to Germany."

"He was getting away!" They'd almost had action earlier tonight, but the Luftwaffe plane had been infuriatingly faster than them. Yuri gave chase, but eventually Flynn convinced him this just might be a trap leading them into an ambush.

"Adjust your direction three degrees north. Anyway, you downed your fifth plane last week. You're already officially an ace, so I think we can let one plane go without getting ourselves killed over it."

Yuri yawned again and checked his watch. It was quarter after four, so they should be back at the airfield by 4:45. With any luck he'd be able to hit his bunk by six. "It's the principle of the thing."

"My principle is to land on time and get at least five hours of sleep. Then maybe have enough time to walk around on solid ground while the sun is up and remember that the world is more than the night sky."

Yuri snorted. "Where's the fun in solid ground?" Having spent his childhood in a gutter, he couldn't think of any better place to be than behind the controls of an aeroplane.

"It's just exhausting night after night," Flynn said. "Ever since the invasion, there's been hardly any rest."

"Hey, on the bright side, if we keep up this pace, we'll get the Jerries out of France by the end of '44."

"That would be good."

Yuri stared into the stars. He had to trust Flynn's navigation skills, because they were flying over empty fields of France with not a single light to guide them. His gloved fingers drummed on the controls as he thought about those smug pilots who zipped around in Spitfires and Hurricanes in broad daylight. They got so much praise for being so flashy, but their job was easy. Anyone could fly a plane when they could see where they were by the ground, and targeting an enemy plane by sight was child's play. It took real skill to operate in the black of night using the stars as a compass and radar to target the enemy.

"There's something coming." Flynn's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"What kind of something?"

"There's a plane at seven o'clock. I don't think it's one of ours."

No, they were at the fringe of the mission area and the other British planes would be heading back to the airfield in Normandy peninsula by now. "Is it our friend from before?"

"Might be, and he's brought a mate. There're two of them now."

"Lucky us." Yuri twisted the controls.

"What are you doing?"

"We already know that bastard is faster than us. I'm not going to race all the way back to the airfield and let him shoot up our tail."

As he swung around, moonlight gleamed on the wings of a pair of planes. The one he'd crossed pulled up did a barrel roll while Yuri set his sights on the other.

"I told you we shouldn't have trailed him so far! We were just supposed to be patrolling to intercept enemy bombers!

"Relax. I got 'em." The second plane was turning to face him so Yuri unleashed a brief torrent of gunfire before jerking back on the stick and looping into the air. He'd been hoping the one coming up behind him would end up shooting his mate, but they weren't that stupid.

At the top of the loop, they rolled to the side. Flynn clutched his seatbelt as they swooped down and gravity pressed them into their seats. Yuri fired again, but the plane twisted to the side at the last second.

"Four o'clock!" Flynn shouted.

Yuri dove but as he started to pull up again, a cloud passed over the moon and he lost his sight. "Dammit! Flynn, where are they!?" Yuri squinted through the glass of the cockpit, trying to spot any form of light on the enemies.

"One's right above us and the other is off the starboard wing."

"Then let's say hello from below." He angled up and fired into the darkness something sparked and he was certain he'd hit something, but it wasn't debilitating.

Flynn had his eyes locked on the radar, watching the battle on the screen. "The other is coming on fast."

Yuri twisted to the side as another stream of bullets just missed them. He rose steadily and then the clouds moved on and the sudden moonlight bathed the sky. Specifically, it bathed the enemy plane flying parallel to him, far too close for comfort. It started to turn to get him in its sights so Yuri yanked upwards. But the second one was right behind him and as he pulled up to avoid getting hit by the first, he felt the entire plane rumble as bullets peppered the tail.

"Shit!" The plane faltered and his attempted loop dropped a few feet before levelling out.

"We can still fly," Flynn snapped. "If we just-"

Heat exploded through the cockpit as a cannon blast hit their side. Something hit Yuri's leg and a cool breeze rushed into the cockpit. He was nearly blinded by the sudden light of fire.

"The wing's on fire!" Flynn shouted.

"I noticed, thanks!" In front of him, dozens of needles raced to the red side of the gauge and he reflexively pulled back to try to keep the nose level. More bullets peppered the opposite side, because a burning plane was an easy target on a dark night. Glass shattered and Flynn gasped. He clutched his upper arm and Yuri spared a second to glance at him.

"What happened?!"

"Got hit," Flynn grunted. "Not serious – concentrate on the plane."

Yuri had the stick pulled back as far as he could, but the nose was still dipping down and tilting to the right as the burning wing collapsed. Having a plane made of wood made it incredibly maneuverable and easy to take off, but now he felt like he was in a flying pile of kindling.

"Come on…" Yuri muttered. "Pull up, pull up."

Flynn fumbled to unbuckle his harness with one hand.

"Sit down!" Yuri snapped. "Buckle up for a crash landing!"

"This isn't going to be a crash landing, we're just going to crash! Do you even know how close we are to the ground!?"

Yuri tore his eyes away from the nose and glanced at the altimeter, which was careening to the dangerous end of the scale along with all the others. "You're right." He unbuckled and hopped to his feet, then cursed and stumbled, his knee crashing into the seat.

"Are you all right?" Flynn had already hopped over his seat and started strapping a parachute onto his back. Blood soaked his right arm, but neither of them had time to pay it any attention.

Yuri clutched his calf and his hand came away slippery. "Got hit by some shrapnel. Hadn't noticed in the panic. It'll be fine, just pass me a 'chute."

At least the gunfire had stopped. What was the point of wasting ammunition on a plane that was already going down? Yuri struggled to get the harness strapped around him and he realized his fingers were shaking. That was weird, because he felt oddly calm. The entire affair from spotting the enemies to deciding to jump couldn't have been more than five minutes, but time seemed to move in slow motion.

Flynn slammed the release to swing open the cockpit and the wind nearly ripped Yuri out of the plane. The plane spiralled toward the ground and tilted so far to the right it nearly threw them out. Yuri finally managed to tighten the parachute properly and then said, "Last one to the ground's a rotten egg!" and leapt into the sky.

As soon as he cleared the plane, Yuri jerked the cord and heard the rustle of fabric spread out above him. It tugged him to a stop and he watched hisplanespiral away in a growing ball of fire. Seconds later, Flynn's parachute unfolded not too far away, and he took a long sigh.

Damn. He'd never even been hit before and now he'd gone and lost his goddamn plane. He wanted to punch something but he was dangling in the sky like an idiot. Blood trickled down his calf and he wondered how deep the wound was. In all the adrenaline of the fight he hadn't even noticed the pain, but it was starting to creep into his attention.

Branches came into view through the darkness and he focused on landing. They'd been fairly low when they jumped, so he was still falling fast even with the parachute. The trees seemed to be racing up to meet him, but thankfully they were sparse enough that there was plenty of open ground to land on.

He braced himself and then slammed into the grass. His injured leg gave out and twisted to the side, causing him to fall to his knees with a gasp. The parachute billowed behind him as the light breeze filled it with air like a sail. He quickly unbuckled the harness before it could drag him across the ground.

Freed from the 'chute, Yuri sat still, catching his breath. All around him was grass dried by the summer heat. There were sparse trees behind him and a crap load of French countryside stretching out as far as he could see.

In the distance, he heard a crash that must be his plane hitting the ground. Well… he thought as he stared at plume of smoke and fire in the distance, at least I wasn't in it.

His leg was still bleeding. That needed to be treat. With a grunt, he forced himself to shift position and stretch his leg out. The parachute had deflated, so he dragged it toward him by the strings in case he needed a bandage. Yuri yanked his trouser leg out of his boot and found red smeared across his calf. The epicentre was a six-inch gash. The dull burn he'd felt earlier was heating up now that he had nothing else to focus on. He pulled a penknife out of his other boot and slashed a strip of canvas from his parachute. This made a quick bandage and another strip wound around his knee to try to stabilize it. He then he cut a few more strips for Flynn and looked around for him.

Yuri didn't see another parachute on the ground, but then movement caught his eye and he spotted Flynn dangling out of a tree like a marionette. He was only a few feet off the ground and swayed gently while clutching his arm.

Yuri shakily got to his feet and limped toward the tree. It was more of a staggering hop as he tried to figure out a way to walk without ever putting all his weight on one leg. At the base of the tree, he leaned against the trunk to give his knee and calf a rest.

"You all right?" This close, Yuri could see Flynn's gloved hand clenched around his upper arm, blood oozing between his fingers. "Hell! You said it wasn't a serious injury!"

Flynn glanced down at him. "You had more pressing concerns."

"I'll get you down." Yuri used his knife to cut right through the straps of Flynn's harness and in moments Flynn thudded to the grass. He fell on his ass and hissed at the movement.

Yuri dropped, gingerly stretching his leg out. "Move your hand. I'll bandage it."

Flynn did so and Yuri slashed open the sleeve of Flynn's flight suit so he could get to the wound. There were two of them – the bullet had gone straight through his arm. Yuri winced in sympathy and then wound a strip of canvas around the wound as tight as he could. Flynn was lucky it hadn't hit an artery.

When he'd wound as many strips as he could around the wound until blood stopped soaking through to the outer layer, he sat back and said, "Other than your arm, are you all right?"

Flynn sat up and clutched the bandages. "Yes." He took a few deep breaths. "Your leg?"

"Nothing to worry about. That arm is going to need medical attention."

Flynn wearily nodded. "There's a village… that way." He point to his left. "Saw it on the map just before we were attacked."

Yuri's leg throbbed at the thought. "It's going to be a long walk." His fist smashed into the grass. "Damn! I can't believe we lost our plane."

"Any landing you can walk away from is a good one."

Yuri gazed at the smouldering wreckage in the distance. "Calling that a landing would be generous."

Flynn sighed. "We're on land. Close enough. Ugh, what do we do now? It won't be long before the Jerries get out here to search the wreck and look for us. I suppose we could save ourselves the trouble and surrender-"

"Hell no!"

"- but that option is obviously off the table." With his good arm, Flynn shook off his glove and reached into his jacket and fished around until he pulled out a wrinkled grey photograph.

Yuri leaned over and smiled at Karol and Estelle's faces. They stood on a train platform with suitcases at their feet and a handwritten sign between them saying 'Come home safe!' It had been over three years since he'd seen Karol – the kid would be twelve by now – but he could easily imagine his face if anything happened to himself or Flynn. "We have to get home."

Flynn's grip tightened on the photograph. "Right."

* * *

Dawn was peeking over the horizon when Flynn and Yuri collapsed against a low stone wall. Yuri's knee throbbed with a ferocity that made it seem like the joint was trying to break out of his skin and escape the abuse he'd put it through. Across a short stretch of grass was a small cottage on the edge of the village.

"Do you think…" Flynn panted, "the people who live here… will… help?"

Yuri didn't like how white Flynn's face was. Red seeped through the canvas wrapped around his arm. "Dunno. We're on their side, but if they get caught helping us, they could be killed. That, or they'll turn us in for a reward." Out in the field, all he'd had to worry about was their immediate injuries. Now, the paranoia of being behind enemy lines sunk in. There could be German soldiers anywhere. Yuri had no intention of sitting out the rest of the war in a prison camp.

First things first: Flynn needed fresh bandages on his arm. The blood soaked through Yuri's bandage was dark and dry, but Flynn's was fresh. He spotted a sheet hanging out to dry behind the house. He spoke enough French to ask the owners for help, but he'd rather not risk them being foes.

Yuri nodded toward the sheet. "Let's grab that."

Flynn pouted, which was a feat for a Lieutenant in the Royal Air Forceto accomplish without losing pride. On anyone else it would look silly, but on Flynn… no, come to think of it, it still looked silly. Yuri had just known him long enough that it was filed under 'standard Flynn expressions'.

"We'll leave some money. It's not stealing; it's purchasing without asking. Help me up." Yuri leaned on Flynn's uninjured side as he had down all the way here. Together, they staggered to the clothesline. With the sheet between them and the house, Yuri pulled off the pins and eased the sheet of the line.

A door slammed open and a woman spoke in French. "If you ever want to father a child, get your hands off my laundry. I have a gun and I'm a good shot."

Yuri whipped his hands away from the sheet, but momentum was already going and it slid to the ground. A young woman stood on the back step of her house, glaring at them with fury. She had long, dark hair that almost looked blue in the faint dawn light, but Yuri was more interested in the way the light gleamed on the shiny barrel of her pistol.

When she saw them, she kept the gun pointed straight at Yuri. "Who's side are you on?"

"What's she saying?" Flynn hissed.

Yuri whispered back, "She wants to know if we're the good guys or not." He would really have to thank Mr. Ragou for teaching him French, so he said, "We're British! Do you speak English?"

She lowered the gun. "Enough. Toss me your tags."

Yuri slowly reached to his neck with one hand, carefully positioning himself so she could see the gun in the holster on his waist and proving he wasn't reaching for it. He pulled the cord off his neck and tossed the leather discs to her feet.

The woman didn't take her gun off them as she crouched to pick them up. She glanced over the red and green tags and seemed to find them sufficient, because she lowered he gun. "Ok, you seem safe. Get inside before anyone else sees you."

Flynn helped Yuri limp across the grass and into her kitchen. The room was simple, with scrubbed wooden floors and a table with a few chairs. She pulled one of these out and Yuri gratefully sat down. Flynn slumped into another chair and rested his forehead on the table while clutching his arm.

"My name is Judith." She tossed the identity discs back to Yuri and asked, "What should I call you, Sergeant Lowell?"

"Yuri. And this is Flynn." He jerked his thumb at him. "He got shot. I stopped the bleeding as much as I could, but it's still pretty bad. Do you have any first aid supplies?"

She nodded. "I'll be right back." Judith opened a door revealing steps into a cellar. Just before walking down, she paused and looked back, and then said, "Oh – da ist eine Fliege auf deine Wange."

Yuri wrinkled his brow. "Pardon?"

She smiled. "Just checking."

When she was gone, Yuri turned to Flynn. "What was that about? Was that German?"

Flynn raised his head. "Something about a fly on your cheek. Probably checking if you'd reflexively respond to German in case we're spies."

Yuri brushed his cheek, just in case. "You speak German?"

"Studied the basics in training…. Figured if I was going to be at war with Germany it might help."

"Lucky you didn't get sent to the Pacific."

Flynn yawned and lowered his head again. "Yes, well, Japan wasn't in the war yet when I enlisted."

"Do you know any French at all?"

"A little. Je t'aime."

Yuri snorted. "'I love you'? What good is that going to be?"

"I wasn't planning on using it."

Judith returned with a wooden box adorned with a red cross and an old wooden cane, which she passed to Yuri. "If you go down the hall, there's a bathroom with a shower. Clean yourself up and then go ahead and sleep in my bed at the end of the hall."

"But Flynn-"

"Won't be helped by you sitting there worrying." She was already unwinding the strips of parachute around the arm with fresh bandages and disinfectant lying in wait on the table.

Yuri reluctantly agreed with her. At the mention of a bed, he remembered how tired he was. He'd been awake since noon yesterday and now that they were moderately safe, it was hitting him all at once. He nodded, took a roll of bandages for himself, and hobbled out of the kitchen with the cane.

* * *

Yuri didn't know what time it was when he was shaken awake, but he immediately snapped to attention at the frantic expression on Judith's face.

"How good is your French?" she blurted as soon as he met her eyes.

Having just woken up, it took him a few seconds to formulate an answer in French. "Decent enough. Why?"

"Because Germans are knocking on doors looking for you. Get up."

Yuri bolted up at this. He immediately swung his legs out of bed and started to stand before remembering his knee. Judith hurried around the room and pulled clothes out of a wardrobe.

"Get changed," she tossed a chequered shirt and some trousers to the bed. "When they ask, you're my boyfriend from Paris. They aren't native French speakers either – with any luck they won't notice your horrible accent."

Yuri only half understood what she'd said as he hurriedly changed out of his uniform. Every word of French he knew flew through his head and he suddenly felt a lot less confident in his fluency now that his freedom depended on it.

Dressed, he hobbled out to the kitchen. "Where's Flynn?"

Judith scrubbed blood off the table. "Hidden. I have a secret compartment in the cellar, but it's only big enough for one."

"How's his arm?"

"He'll live." She ran down the hall again and Yuri heard thumps from the bedroom. When she came back, she reached for his collar and hastily opened the top few buttons. "I'm going to put lipstick on your face."

"You're wha-?"

She grabbed his shoulders and pressed his lips against his, pecking around his cheeks a few times until he was left with rosey smears. Then she slapped her own cheeks and rubbed until her face was flushed. "I told you – you're my lover from the city. We've been in all day. And you only speak French! Now sit down."

Yuri limped to the chair and leaned the cane against the table. An old clock above the sink said it was just past four in the afternoon. His knee felt better after a rest, but still ached in the background.

"When you say Flynn'll live-"

"What did I say about French?!" Judith peeked around the curtain by the door and then hurried to the table. "They're coming. Do you want them to hear you speaking English through the door? La balle a perforé son bras, maisa raté toutes les artères ou l'os. Je lui-"

"Whoa," Yuri held up his hand and shook his head. "Slow down, please. I'm not that good."

Judith nodded and spoke again, slower this time. "The bullet went through his arm, but did not hit any major blood vessels. I gave him some messy stitches and then-"

Someone rapped on the door. Judith went still and then slowly rose to her feet. "Stay calm," she whispered. "Let me do most of the talking."

Judith swung open the door and athin man in a military uniform strode past her. "Good afternoon, Mademoiselle. I am Capitaine Cumore."

Judith smiled and closed the door behind him. "How can I help you, Monsieur?"

Cumore strode into the room, eyes on Yuri, who kept his face carefully blank. "Are you aware that an Allied plane was shot down not far from your village last night?"

Judith frowned and tilted her head. "Hm… I thought I heard something last night, but I didn't know anything for sure. I was…" she glanced at Yuri and gave a girlish giggle Yuri was certain was fake. "Distracted last night. Why?"

"No bodies were found in the wreckage of the plane, but there were two parachutes nearby. We believe the downed airmen made their way to this village seeking shelter." He turned his head to Yuri and said, "And who are you?"

Yuri stuck out his hand with a casual smile. "Hi, there. I'm in town…" he glanced at Judith with a coy smile, "visiting. My name's Jacques Piaf." He'd used the entire sentence to wrack his brain for an authentic fake name, and that was the best he could come up with.

Cumore stared at him for a long second. "As in, Edith Piaf? The cabaret singer?"

Damn, he should have known Cumore would be familiar with her, too. Yuri had heard her on the wireless and it was the only French surname he could think of in the spur of the moment. He just laughed. "Yes, people are always laughing at me about that!"

"Of course." Cumore scanned the room, as if hoping to spot a pilot's uniform sticking out of a cupboard. "And why are you here visiting? Family? I was not aware of any other 'Piaf' in this village."

"He's visiting me," Judith said.

Cumore crossed his arms and glanced between them, daring them to say something incriminating. "Where were you last night, Monsieur Piaf?"

Yuri just smirked and reached his hand over to squeeze Judith's thigh. "Ah… Capitaine, don't make me dirty this woman's name." He felt that any second now he was going to bite his tongue. He wasn't confident enough to try any complex sentences in case he screwed up the grammar and outed himself, but he also didn't want it obvious he was speaking as simply as he could, and he had to do all that on the spot while acting totally cool.

"Mademoiselle Judith, were you not questioned last year for your alleged involvement in transporting explosives that derailed a train out of Paris?"

Judith tilted her head with an expression of innocent curiosity. "Yes, but since I had nothing to do with that, they told me it was a mistake and I wasn't charged."

"M-hmm…. They couldn't find any evidence, at least."

It was a good thing Cumore's gaze was focused on Judith, because he didn't notice the surprised look Yuri shot at her for a second before regaining his composure. Ah, he should have known. A young woman armed and confident to shoot, with the medical knowledge to treat a bullet wound and a hidey-hole in her cellar had to be involved with the resistance. They must have picked the best house in the village to stumble upon.

Cumore stared at her, and then his eyes fell on the cane sitting near Yuri. His heart skipped a beat and he realized he should have asked Judith to hide it. Without a word, Cumore grabbed Yuri's arm and wrenched him to his feet. He shoved Yuri forward, and after a single stumbling step his knee buckled and he clutched the table with an involuntary gasp.

Victory glinted in Cumore's eyes. "How were you injured?"

Yuri glared at him while massaging his knee and Judith slapped her hands on the table. "Monsieur! Please, I would rather not say."

"Let me see your leg." Cumore crouched, grabbed the cuff of Yuri's trouser leg and pulled it up, revealing the bandaged calf and wrapped and swollen knee. "Voilà! A hard landing from a parachute, perhaps?"

Yuri scoffed. "How would landing cut my leg?"

"And it looks recent." Cumore straightened up and smirked at him. "Just how did you get injured while staying in all last night, Monsieur 'Piaf'?"

"Monsieur, it's – it's embarrassing." Judith covered her covered her mouth and she'd even managed to make her cheeks redden. "It was my fault. He was injured while we were trying… something new."

Cumore glanced between them in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"There's a sharp bit of brass on the footboard of my bed. I'm afraid I never noticed because ordinarily no one's leg would go near it while sleeping. He insisted we keep going after I bandaged the cut, but that was when we got very… adventurous. I tied the rope around his ankle too tightly and when certain events caused him to fall from the bed, well…"

Yuri stared at her in amazement. He was certain he'd lost some of the details as her explanation sped up, but what he understood was brilliant. It was the perfect excuse, because based on Cumore's expression he had no desire to press for details.

"I suppose you wouldn't mind if I searched your house, Mademoiselle?"

Judith nodded and held her hand toward the hall. "If it would make you feel better. Although, please excuse any untidiness in the bedroom. We were…" Her fingers played up Yuri's shoulder to his neck. "Busy."

Cumore wrinkled his nose at them and then walked away. As he left, Yuri suddenly realized he'd left his uniform on the floor. Shit. As soon as Cumore entered the room the game would be up.

Judith saw his expression and remarked, "You're so untidy, mon cher. Aren't you glad I picked up your clothes for you?"

"Oh, right. I wouldn't want the capitaine to have to see my pants."

Judith raised her voice just enough that Cumore was sure to hear but it could still pass for normal conversation. "I really hope he doesn't look in the wardrobe, though."

A few seconds later, Yuri heard a creak that could only be the wardrobe door opening. A minute later, the door slammed shut and he hurried out of the room. Cumore didn't look Judith in the eye as he returned to the kitchen and Yuri had a sudden need to know exactly what was in the wardrobe. Cumore went down to the cellar and Yuri heard things shuffling around, but it didn't seem to take very long for Cumore to come back to the kitchen.

"Everything seems to be satisfactory, Mademoiselle. I'll leave you and your… friend alone, shall I? Be sure to make a report if you see any signs of the airmen. They might be quite dangerous, and I would simply hate for any harm to come to your village."

Judith smiled pleasantly. "But of course. I'll keep my eyes peeled."

Cumore nodded in farewell and left the house.

As soon as he was gone, Yuri's musclesun-tensed and he leaned back in the chair. "Thank god."

Judith looked away from the door and said, "Piaf? Really, Yuri?"

He crossed his arms with a scowl. "I panicked. Anyway, where's Flynn?"

She rose and crossed to the cellar door. "Come on, he's down here."

Yuri grabbed the cane and then carefully hopped down the old wooden steps. "So what was in the wardrobe?"

"In the back of the wardrobe, the panel can be pulled out to reveal a hatch in the wall. Behind that is a compartment filled with an interesting variety of leather handcuffs, whips, and, well, use your imagination."

Yuri stared at the back of her head as she crossed the smooth stone slabs on the floor. "Seriously?"

"Yes. At which point, any searcher immediately becomes highly embarrassed and incapable of looking me in the eye. This is fortunate, because they then have no interest in examining the compartment further to discover that the bottom can be pulled up to reveal my gun, a handful of fake IDs, underground newspapers, and whatnot."

Yuri grinned as she approached a barrel of potatoes against the wall. She shoved this out of the way and, kneeling, dug her fingers in a crack between flagstones. One of the square slabs pulled up and she reached in to grab Flynn's outstretched hand.

Yuri hadn't even noticed there was anything off about the floor, but it apparently concealed an opening large enough for a full-grown man to lie flat. "Of all the cottages in all the villages in all of France, we walk into yours."

Judith helped Flynn to his feet with a mild smile. "Fortunate for you, I'd say. Although, if you'd knocked on just about anyone else's door, they'd have brought you to me. How do you feel, Flynn?"

Flynn, white-faced and woozy, leaned on her. "Hungry."

She bobbed her head. "Come upstairs and I'll make some food. We have things to discuss."

Upstairs, Judith busied herself in the kitchen while Yuri and Flynn sat perpendicular at the table. Flynn rested one arm on his lap while the other was pulled tight against his chest in a sling. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair while Yuri watched him with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Just… very sore. Ah, well, at least now I can say I've had the entire war experience. I'm a bit miffed the bullet went right through so I couldn't keep it."

Yuri forced a smile. "On the plus side, when we get back we'll have an excuse to head to the hospital and visit Estelle."

Flynn smiled at the thought. "That would be nice." Yuri knew Flynn was still unhappy about the idea of Estelle being here. They'd tried to keep her safe when they insisted she and Karol leave London back in 1941, but this spring she'd turned 18 and decided it was her patriotic duty to aid in the war effort by becoming a nurse.

"And you'll get a fancy new stripe to put on your uniform," Yuri said. "How dashing."

"You, too. You also got wounded."

Yuri waved his hand. "Me? I scratched my leg and busted my knee because I didn't land right. You're the one that got shot. Besides…." He folded his hands on the table. "It's my fault this happened. If I hadn't gone after that plane-"

"We're a team." Flynn's tired eyes flashed to alertness to glare at him. "I'm your eyes in the dark, and you're my wings. We share the wins and losses."

Yuri smiled, but he still couldn't stop his brain from playing out the dogfight over and over. He kept trying to think of something he could have done differently; some way he could have out-maneuvered the enemy or kept the plane in the air.

Judith came to the table with a plate of ham sandwiches and some fruit. "Well, boys, this is all very touching, but we have business to discuss."

Yuri stared at the plate and his mouth watered. "Are those apples?"

Judith tilted her head. "Do you not have apples in England?"

Yuri snatched the shiny red fruit from the table. "I haven't had fresh fruit since…" It was depressing how difficult it was to remember. He'd still been a kid when the Depression hit and fresh fruit became far too expensive for a street kid to even dream of, and things only got worse when rationing started. "Flight training," he recalled. "Out in the middle of nowhere in Canada, some local farmers gave them to us cheap. It's been crappy mess hall grub ever since."

"Where did you get these?" Flynn inspected the apples like he expected a covert grenade. "I thought France was under rationing as well?"

"Yes, but in the country we eat what we can find on the land. It's technically illegal, but I already have a pair of British airmen in my house, so it's the least of my worries."

"I can't thank you enough for sheltering us," Flynn said. "You're risking your own life to help us."

"I know. But, you're risking your lives to help liberate my country, so I suppose we should call it even. Now, where do you want to go from here?"

"Allied territory," Yuri said. "Specifically, Picauville Airfield."

"You have three options. Option one, you head to Spain. I can get you started on an underground network of safe houses across France and over the border. Once in Spain, you should be able to make it to Gibraltar without much hassle."

"How long would that take?" Flynn asked.

"Several weeks at a minimum. It's a risky journey, and in the past it was the only option we had. I can't guarantee yoursafety, but I can say I've met my share of airmen en route to Spain. A lot of them make it home."

"And the ones who don't get dragged off to a prison camp – if they're lucky." It was hard to scowl while eating an apple, but Yuri did his best. They didn't have weeks to spend sneaking across France, then however long it would take to get back to England, and then get deployed again. It could be months before they were back in the air, and just as long before they were able to get a message home informing people they were alive. By now, they'd have been officially recorded as Missing in Action, and Yuri could only imagine the letters a tearful Estelle was sending Karol and Rita. They couldn't make their friends wait months to find out they were alive. "What's option two?"

"You sit tight and wait for Allied territory to move to us. Your boys are pushing the line back every day. I firmly believe that within a month, this village will be liberated. You'll be safe then."

Flynn frowned. "And until then you have to hide the pair of us under the noses of those German soldiers?"

"I've sheltered airmen here before. If you're worried about resources, my neighbours will happily assist with food and clothing."

"I'm not sure how long I can keep this up," Yuri said. "Cumore knows I'm here, and I can tell he's suspicious. He's just waiting for me to slip up, and I'm not sure I can keep up the charade long enough for our Colonel Whitehorse to march in. I can't stand just sitting here waiting for him to find an excuse to arrest me. What's option three?"

"Option three is very dangerous and likely to get you killed, but I can already tell you're probably going to go for it. We head west for a few days until we reach all the tanks and machine guns that want to kill us, and then slip around them and break into Allied territory that way."

Flynn frowned. "That does sound very dangerous."

"It'll get us back within a few days, though?" Yuri asked.

Judith nodded. "Assuming we don't get caught or killed."

Yuri already knew what he wanted to do, but he looked to Flynn. "What do you think?"

Flynn met his eyes and gave him that look that said, I can't believe you're suggesting this, you moron, but he said, "I'd like to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Besides, Yuri is right that staying here would be dangerous, and if we go all the way to Spain before looping back around, the war might be over by the time we get back in the air."

Judith grinned. "Oh, good, I was hoping you'd say that. The third option sounds much more fun."

"Oh, yes," Flynn said. "What's not fun about getting shot at? Why, I've been having a jolly good time on this delightful holiday to France."

"Exactly," Yuri said with a cheerful smile. "What's the point of holidaying in France when there's not a war on?" When shit hit the fan and all hope was lost, there was no one Yuri would rather have at his side than Flynn, because even in the darkest times he could always find pleasure in taking the piss out of him.

"We'll leave tomorrow," Judith said.

* * *

That night, Flynn and Yuri lay side by side on the floor. "How's your arm?" Yuri asked into the darkness.

"Don't worry about it." His clothing rustled and then he pulled out the picture of their friends again. It was a shame Rita hadn't been able to make it to the station to see Karol and Estelle off, but she'd already run off to become a boffin cracking codes for the government.

When they were small, it had just been Yuri and Flynn. Flynn's parents were poor, but they scratched together enough to provide for Yuri as well. After they died, they'd fended for themselves on the streets rather than get sent off to some orphanage. They pseudo-adopted Karol when they were about fourteen, and then Rita and Estelle had come into the mix to round off their family. Estelle's parents always made sure they had at least one meal a day when they couldn't scrounge it up themselves. Life had been hard, but they'd sworn to stay together and make it through.

Then the war happened. They were only sixteen when it started, but the next summer they watched Spitfires fly overhead in the Battle of Britain and realized there was no way they could sit this out. He and Flynn and argued a lot, but eventually decided they couldn't both leave. Someone had to stay behind to watch out for Karol and Rita, who had still been quite young. So they'd all said their tearful goodbyes to Flynn and he set off to join the Air Force like a good little soldier.

Things were relatively calm until the bombs started falling on London. If they were close enough to Estelle's house, they could make it to the Heurassein family's Anderson shelter, but most nights Yuri spent trying to console a petrified Karol camping out with crowds of strangers in an Underground station. With plaster raining from the ceiling and the booms of explosives hitting the street over their heads, Yuri had to think Flynn had got the better deal, since he was safely in Canada for training.

But then everything splintered all at once. Rita's latent genius had been discovered when a crossword contest she thought was a 'silly simple newspaper game' turned out to be secret test from the government. The night before Rita was to leave, they'd all gone out to celebrate and say farewell. When the bombers came early, Estelle had huddled in the Underground with them rather than running home. The next morning, they'd walked back to her street only to find that… well, Estelle was lucky she hadn't been home that night.

That was the last straw. Mr. and Mrs. Heurassein had done everything right and had a shelter in their own back garden and even that wasn't enough to protect them. Despite Karol's insistence that they'd promised to stick together, Yuri wasn't going to let his friends keep living on a giant target. A few days later, he and Estelle were sent out to a foster family in the countryside. With no one else to hold him back, Yuri followed Flynn into the Air Force.

Then there had been the busiest but most enjoyable months of his life learning how to fly aeroplanes, and now they were here. Being a pilot was thrilling when you zipped through the air, spinning in loops and whooping as you shot down the bastards on their way to bomb your home city. It wasn't so great when you crashed into enemy territory and had a hell of a hike back home hanging over your head.

"It seems like it's been ages since I've seen Karol and Rita," Flynn said.

"Almost four years. Karol's twelve now, can you believe it?"

"I wonder if we'll even recognize him when the war is over."

"When the war is over… it seems like we've been saying that for years. Everything good in life will be 'when the war is over'. I'm getting pretty tired of it."

"Me too. It can't be much longer, though, right? We've breached the continent. Germany is losing territory. We're going to make it to Berlin, Yuri."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, it is. We're going to get out of here alive, we're going to make it back to the airfield, and we're going to keep following the invasion all the way to the finish line."

Yuri held up a fist. Flynn slipped the photo into his pocket and bumped arms with Yuri. "I can swear to that. We're both going to survive and we'll bring Karol a souvenir from Berlin. Hitler's toilet seat or something."

Flynn chuckled. "Might be hard to squeeze that into your kit."

"I'd get rid of that photo if I were you, though. Don't you know how it goes? Going on and on about loved ones back home is deadly. You might as well join 'one last mission before retiring'."

"I'm not going to die just because I talk about missing my friends."

"That so? I think photos of loved ones are some kind of magnet that attracts bullets. Having that in your pocket is probably why you got shot in the first place."

"You're just superstitious."


	2. Arrest

**Part II - Arrest**

In the morning, Judith gave them eggs which were shovelled down in minutes.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Flynn said when he finished. "How can we ever repay your kindness?"

"Just win this war and I'll be happy." She gathered the dishes and carried them to the sink.

"I'll do them." Yuri quickly rose. "You made breakfast, so let me do the washing up."

"If you insist." She dried her hands and stepped away. "We're going to take a donkey cart as far as we can, since you can't walk well. I'm heading into the village to a friend's house to borrow his."

"He's all right with letting us use his animal?" Flynn asked while Yuri limped to the sink and balanced on one leg to start cleaning dishes.

Judith nodded. "I told you, none of us like the Germans. You boys are fighting for us, so we'll support you as much as we can. Stay inside and I'll be back soon."

When she was gone, Flynn said, "I should help."

"Sure, put the dishes away in the cabinets."

Flynn hopped up to do as told. "Are you nervous about getting back?"

Before he'd enlisted, Yuri's experience with the war had been the helpless panic of being stuck on the ground while death rained from above. Being a pilot meant staying hundreds of feet above most of the bloodshed. Now that he was stuck to the ground, he couldn't help feeling like a scared civilian again. "Nah."

Flynn carried glasses to a cupboard near the door. As he closed the cupboard, he glanced out the window and then quickly stepped behind the door. "That German officer is coming."

"What? Crap." Flynn stood there in his flight suit with an injury obviously inflicted by a bullet. "Go back to the cellar. You need to hide; he doesn't know you're here."

Flynn nodded and dashed across the room. Yuri followed with more difficulty, cursing himself for screwing up his landing and busting his knee. In the cellar, Flynn crawled into the cramped space below the floor and Yuri carefully moved the barrel over the entrance to hide the crack.

"I'll try to get rid of him." Yuri hurried back to the kitchen. He considered staying hidden in the cellar as well, but he wouldn't put it past Cumore to waltz into the house looking for him if he didn't answer the door. He didn't want to give Cumore any reason to search the house, nor to have to come up with an excuse for why he was hiding.

The door banged and Yuri's fingers tightened around the cane as he opened it.

"Bonjour, Monsieur 'Piaf'." Sarcasm truly transcended language, because Cumore couldn't have made it more obvious he believed that to be a false name. "_May I come in_?"

"_Yes_," Yuri stepped aside to let him in and then said, "_I wasn't expecting to see you again, Capitaine Cumore_."

"_I saw your lady friend on the street and thought this might be a good chance to talk to you_."

"_About what?_" Yuri leaned on the cane and hoped the wince as he shifted weight wasn't taken as guilt.

Cumore leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. "_It's been rather boring out here, as I'm sure you can imagine. I've been stuck overseeing peasants for the past four years while my fellows are off fighting. But you know, in a few weeks I'm getting a brief trip to Paris. I just thought, as a Parisian yourself, you might share with me some places I should visit in the city._"

Cumore watched him like a hawk. Yuri steadily met his eyes, but with a friendly smile. "_Oh, yes! I don't know if an officer like yourself will be interested in the same places as me, but I can tell you some good bars. My favourite is a little place called La Porte Rouge, you can find it on Rue Fourier._" Yuri had never been to Paris in his life, but he was willing to bet Cumore hadn't been there for more than maybe a brief stop either. La Porte Rouge very well _could_ be a bar in Paris, and who was Cumore to tell him Fourier wasn't the name of a street? It _sounded_ French, and unless he had a highly detailed map of the city in his pocket, he wasn't in any position to prove him wrong."_If you have time, check out the history museum downtown. It has a lot of interesting stuff. And the best crepes in the city are from a little shop on Rue Perrault. They're delicious!_"

"_How very helpful._"

That's right, Yuri thought with a satisfaction he didn't dare smirk about. _Trying to catch me in not knowing shit about Paris? Well, you're right, I don't know shit about Paris – but neither do you!_ He deserved some commendation for all that on-the-spot French, though. It felt like his tongue had run away to join the circus as an acrobat and dragged his brain reluctantly behind. "_Anything else I can help you with?_"

"_Nothing… nothing. I feel slightly hungry, though. Perhaps you could spare me some bread?_"

Yuri tried to hide his anger at the 'request'. With the gun at his hip and the might of the occupying army behind him, it was a demand. How dare they march into an innocent town, declare it their territory, and then steal from the populace? Yuri limped back to Cumore with the bread, forcing a smile. This was a good reminder of why he'd enlisted in the first place – so bastards like this couldn't keep hurting people unchecked, and especially so they could never do it to his own home.

Cumore took the bread and said, "Thank you."

It seemed to happen in slow motion. "No problem." The alert part of his brain screamed and tried to slam on the breaks halfway through, but it was too late because the kneejerk part of his brain didn't listen to logic. It heard 'thank you' and responded in kind.

He didn't even have time to swear before Cumore pulled a gun on him. "Well, well, look who speaks English."

Yuri held one hand up, the other occupied with the cane. He briefly considered using it as a weapon, but he'd get maybe one blow in before he was shot. "_That's the only phrase I know_."

"Don't think you can fool me."

Yuri shook his head. "_Pardon? Sorry, I don't speak English_."

Cumore glared at him. "_What's the name of the next village over?_"

"Saint… Pierre?"

Cumore flicked the gun at the table. "Sit down."

Yuri moved lowly, never taking his eyes off Cumore. The cane was gently leaned on the table beside him, within easy reach in case he had a chance to use it as a weapon. "Hands on the table," Cumore barked. "Where I can see them."

Yuri made a show of pressing his palms into the wood. Move slowly, he thought. Judith will be home soon, and she can… what? There were more German soldiers in the village. Any kind of confrontation would draw them out and then they'd be shoot on sight for initiating a fight. Did Judith have her gun on her? Would she have taken it on a walk through the village?

Cumore kept his gun trained on Yuri's chest. "Name and rank."

"Yuri Lowell. Flight Sergeant. 604th Squadron in the RAF Second Tactical Air Force." His mind raced with possibilities, most of which ended in prison camps or death. Hypothetically, being taken as a prisoner of war would be better than getting killed, but he wasn't ready to roll over and let himself be marched to Germany in chains.

"You were the pilot?"

"That's right." _And I'm a damn good one, too_. He thought the last part to remind himself. Getting shot down had been a blow to his pride, but he remembered what Flynn had pointed out when they were still in the air. He had shot down five enemy planes in the past year – he was an ace, and a single mishap didn't take that away. And because he was an ace, he wasn't going to let this asshole captain walk all over him.

"And where is your navigator?"

"Dead." Yuri tilted his head back with a scowl. "He got shot before we even bailed and he was dead by the time his parachute hit the ground. I buried him."

"With what?"

"Judith lent me a trowel."

"So you could direct me to this alleged grave, could you?"

Yuri shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's out in the middle of the field and I patted the dirt down pretty well."

Cumore leaned forward and slapped the table. "You are lying, Sergeant."

"I would never."

Cumore glared at him, but then straightened up with a smile. 'Smile' might not actually be the best word, because those were supposed to be reassuring and this looked more like the barred teeth of a cat closing in on a mouse. "You know, perhaps I was wrong. _I_ was under the impression that you were a pilot, and therefore would obviously have been flying with a navigator at night. But since he apparently doesn't exist, I must conclude that you are not."

Yuri wasn't going to say anything until he figured out where Cumore was going with this.

"You're no downed airman," Cumore was saying with a taunting smile. "You're a spy."

Yuri's gaze flashed back to his. "I'm a what now?"

"Dressed in civilian clothes, giving a false name and backstory, _obviously_ didn't come from the crash last night because there's no navigator present… you're a spy. I was going to have the pair of you turned over to the Luftwaffe for imprisonment, but they only take airmen. Spies get turned over to the Gestapo, where they will be quite keen to find out how much you know."

Yuri kept his face still. He'd heard a lot of rumours about the Gestapo over the years. The ones about eating babies were probably false, but all those stories of heinous torture had to come from somewhere. "Lucky for me I'm not a spy and don't know anything."

Cumore smirked. "Not being able to give them any useful information to give is not going to make your situation any pleasanter. In fact, it will probably make it worse."

Yuri's arms tensed as he suppressed the urge to slam his fist into the table, but the gun in his face kept him still. "I know my rights. You can't torture a prisoner of war."

"Ah, but you are not a prisoner of war." He made an expression that was probably supposed to be sympathetic, but he was so out of practice at expressing such an emotion, it just turned to more mockery. "Based on the facts, I have to assume you're an enemy spy. The Geneva Convention doesn't protect spies. You're on your own, Sergeant, which isn't a nice thing to be with the Gestapo."

"You know perfectly well I'm a downed airman and what you're suggesting is a war crime."

"Yes, but the interesting thing about being listed as Missing in Action is that the home country never finds out how your story ended. Now, _I_ certainly wouldn't want to be detained by the Gestapo. You know how you can avoid this? Tell me where your navigator is and I'll be forced to admit you truly are a pilot."

Yuri just glared and let his scowl deepen. He hoped Flynn couldn't hear this conversation from the cellar, or he might turn himself in in a noble sacrifice to save Yuri. Assuming, of course, he could get out of the hiding place by himself. Yuri wasn't sure about that; the barrel was pretty heavy.

"Tell me where he is and the two of you will be sent to a prison camp together, where you can sit out the rest of the war in peace. Or, don't tell me and force me to assume you're a spy, and you can go explain yourself to the Gestapo. When I find your navigator, he will also have no pilot to prove he's an airman and he will also be sent to the Gestapo. What will it be?"

Yuri tried to ignore the fantasies playing through his head of grabbing the cane and beating this Nazi bastard over the head. _Not all German soldiers are Nazis_, he reminded himself. His mind quickly added, _but I bet this fucker is_.

"Do what you want. My mates are tearing you to shreds and making progress toward Berlin as we speak. It's coming from both sides, too. Ever since the Soviets kicked you out of Stalingrad, it's been all downhill on the Russian front, hasn't it? Go ahead and give me to the Gestapo – I can handle the couple of months it'll last before the whole Third Reich comes toppling down." A rational part of his brain told him that several months of torture was still really not something to which to say 'go ahead', but the look on Cumore's face was worth it. Well… ok, maybe he'd change his mind on 'worth it' when he was actually getting beaten to a pulp, but it felt good at the moment.

The fury on Cumore's face told him he'd succeeded at riling him up. The captain slammed his fist on the table and yelled, "Das denkst du, oder?!"

Yuri smiled in satisfaction. He didn't know what Cumore had said, but he'd touched a nerve and made him so angry he forgot to speak English. Cumore knew perfectly well the war wasn't going Germany's way, and if he was so ready to throw out the Geneva Convention over a single airman, Yuri was willing to bet he had a few other skeletons he wouldn't want dragged out of the closet in front of a tribunal when the Allies won.

Cumore composed himself after a deep breath. "All right, Sergeant-"

"See, you keep calling me Sergeant. You know I'm an airman. I know I'm an airman. When your side inevitably loses and my allies pull me out of a Gestapo prison and ask, 'Hey, Yuri, what were you doing here? Legally you were supposed to be imprisoned by the Luftwaffe!' I'll give them your name and recite this conversation. Boy won't you have a fun day in court."

"Steht auf!"

"Wha-"

Cumore rounded the table and grabbed his arm. "Get up." He yanked Yuri out of the chair, and Yuri stumbled as his weight fell on his bad leg. Cumore shoved him toward the door. He didn't say anything, but his gun was highly persuasive. "I'm taking you to Paris."

"Ah, how romantic. I've always wanted to go to Paris!" He said this loudly in the hopes Flynn could hear him. If he didn't find a way out of this, the best he could hope for was that Flynn would get home and report what happened. The Gestapo couldn't make him disappear if the British government knew where he was and would demand evidence when the war was over.

Cumore didn't give him the chance to grab the cane, so Yuri limped slowly out of the house with a gun at his back. He had to hope Flynn thought of something, because while it was true he'd always though Paris would be nice, perhaps it would be nicer under different circumstances.

* * *

Flynn lay in darkness, uselessly pushing against the stone over his head. He'd heard Cumore shout and then Yuri's voice say something about going to Paris, and then the door slammed shut. All he knew was that Yuri was in trouble and he was stuck in this stupid hole in the ground. He probably couldn't have pushed the stone slab and barrel away with both hands, and he definitely couldn't with only one.

Minutes trudged like molasses as Flynn waited for Judith to return. He couldn't stop picturing Yuri being taken farther and farther away with every second he spent down here. What was in Paris? That didn't make any sense. Prisoners of war were supposed to be taken to a camp, and as far as he knew there was nothing of the sort in Paris. Something was wrong, and he needed to get out of here before he could do anything about it.

It seemed like an eternity by the time he heard the door open again. He heard footsteps, but didn't call out yet just in case it was a German coming back to search for him. Just in case, Flynn's hand slid to the pistol at his waist.

He listened to the footsteps for an extended minute until Judith's voice called, "Yuri? Flynn? Êtes-vous ici?"

"Hello!" Flynn slapped the stone overhead. "Hey! I'm down here!"

He waited another minute and then he heard the scrap of the barrel moving and then light filled his chamber. Judith gave him a hand and he climbed back into the cellar.

"Where is Yuri?"

"Cumore took him," Flynn buzzed with the need to charge out the door and run after him. "He came back and Yuri told me to hide down here. I don't know what happened, but I heard Yuri say he's being taken to Paris."

Judith frowned. "Paris? That doesn't make sense. Prisoners only get taken to Paris if suspected of being spies or resistance members."

"Then we'd better hurry." Yuri had a knack for getting into trouble and Flynn had spent a good percentage of his childhood bailing Yuri out of various jams. He certainly hoped this didn't turn out to be a crisis even he couldn't un-jam.

Flynn quickly changed into civilian clothes Judith had brought back and then they ran outside. They passed a donkey cart but kept going. "Isn't that how we're travelling?"

"It's not fast enough."

She led him to another house and banged on the door. An older man answered it with an amicable smile which turned serious when he saw Judith's expression.

The pair exchanged rapid words in French while Flynn stood back and tried to look like he knew what was going on. All he knew was that Judith pointed at him a couple of times and he heard words that sounded something like "aviator" and "anglais". The man nodded at something and then Judith turned to Flynn.

"This is Hanks. He's a friend. He's going to help us rescue Yuri."

Flynn smiled and stuck out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Monsieur Hanks."

Hanks smiled and nodded.

"He doesn't speak any English," Judith added.

Hanks waved his hand and strode off around his eyes. Flynn and Judith followed him to a barn. Flynn wasn't sure what was going on, but every minute they spent here was a minute Yuri got closer to Paris. How could they ever catch up to a military jeep with a donkey?

Hanks opened the barn door and gestured inside with a grin. It took a few seconds for Flynn's eyes to adjust to the darkness of the barn, but enough light entered from gaps in the wood that he was able to make out what was inside and his hopes of catching up to Yuri swelled.

Flynn looked to Hanks with a smile and exhausted his knowledge of French to say, "Très bien."

* * *

Yuri sat in the back of a jeep. The top was down and the warm August sun made the breeze comfortable. He watched lines of thin trees pass in the distance, and all things considered it would have been a lovely drive in the countryside if he weren't surrounded by armed guards and on his way to be tortured to death. That put a slight damper on his mood.

Along with Cumore, there were two other German soldiers in the jeep. The one driving was tall and thin with a silly moustache, and the one sitting beside him was short and round with a face tragically sans hair. They hadn't introduced themselves to him and he didn't know if they even spoke English, so Yuri thought of them as Tweedle A and Tweedle B.

Yuri leaned back and stretched his arms. They hadn't restrained him; why bother? Even if he managed to jump out of a moving car, he was still left with a wounded leg and an empty field. "So… you guys seen any good films lately?"

Tweedle B glanced at him with a frown.

"I haven't been to the cinema since I left London. You ever been to London? Great city. Well, I suppose it was nicer before you lot started blowing it up, but it's still nice."

Based on the blank look, he was going to guess the Tweedles didn't speak English.

"Hey, Cumore, I know you speak English. Let's liven this drive up a little."

Cumore didn't even look back. "Save your energy, Sergeant. You're going to need it later."

Yuri glared at the back of Cumore's head and then tried to get comfortable. Might as well experience comfort now, because he sure as hell wasn't going to get any in Paris. His mind summoned images of cement cells, metal bars, and an array of torture devices he was certain were anachronistic. _But what if they _do_ still have an Iron Maiden? What are you gonna do then, huh?_

It was stupid. Most likely they'd do a quick interrogation, realize he knew nothing, and throw him in a cell until the end of the war. Still, an empty field and unsociable travel companions gave his mind a lot of time to daydream.

What his daydreaming mind focused on was that when they arrived at the Gestapo's headquarters in Paris, he was going to be surrounded by dozens of armed men, trapped behind stone walls, and in the middle of a city controlled by people who wanted him dead. There wasn't going to be any escape once they arrived.

So what did he have to escape now? His clothes and a bandage on his leg. His penknife had been confiscated when they searched him, and Cumore had taken his ID tags. This was entirely illegal, but Yuri doubted Cumore cared about racking up the war crimes at this point. He had a pretty good right hook, but he doubted it was better than Tweedle B's rifle or the pistol at his waist. This was going to take creativity.

Yuri yawned, shifted his weight, and then reached down to his leg. He didn't have very much of a plan. Steps one through four were roughly worked out, and then there was a big space filled with question marks that somehow ended in "Step ?: Arrive at airfield." He knew "punch Cumore in the face" was in there somewhere, but beyond that he'd have to hope it came to him before he completed step four.

Tweedle B gave him a look. "Was machst du?"

Yuri didn't understand German, but he did understand context clues and held his hands up. "My leg is itchy. Uh… you know…" He scratched the back of his hand to demonstrate. "Ich scratchen sie mine leg."

Cumore gave him a dismissive glance and then said something to the Tweedle in German. Leg scratching was apparently an approved activity, because he was ignored. Yuri leaned down and reached under his trouser leg to rub the bandage around his calf. It only took a few moments of fiddling to unwind it and let the bandage fall around his ankle. Satisfied, he sat back up and sat still for a few minutes.

When none of the soldiers were paying him any attention, he shifted his position enough that his injured leg pressed against the door hinge. Yuri bit his lip; this was the step where things started to get painful.

He rubbed. The metal bit through his trouser leg and pulled on the scabbed-over gash. The sting ran up his leg immediately but he ignored the instinct to pull away from pain. Yuri kept rubbing and pressing until he could feel the blood trickling down his leg, and still kept going. He didn't stop until the lip of the hinge dug into the wound and pulled, widening it with a fierce stab of pain.

"Hey, can we stop for a bit?"

Cumore didn't even look back to say, "Of course not."

"No, I'm serious, I need first aid. My wound re-opened."

Yuri reached down to massage his throbbing leg, mentally apologizing to his body, while Cumore looked back skeptically. He raised his bloody hand and said, "See?"

"What did you do?" Cumore snapped.

Yuri shrugged. "I think I scratched too hard." He crossed the leg over his other knee so he could clutch the wound. "It's bleeding pretty bad. Even if you don't care about me, this car's going to get pretty messy."

Cumore gave him a dirty look and then said something to Tweedle B. The Tweedle responded and pointed to the boot of the car, and then with even more annoyance Cumore spoke to Tweedle A. Seconds later, the jeep pulled over at the side of the road and Cumore climbed out. Tweedle A stepped out and opened the door on Yuri's side, while B directed him with the rifle to get out.

Yuri limped even more than before now that his whole calf throbbed and Tweedle A grabbed his arm to stabilize him. The Tweedle let Yuri lean on him as he lowered himself to the dirt road and stretched his bloody leg in front of him. Tweedle B pulled a first aid kit from the boot of the jeep and ran around to kneel in front of Yuri. While he rolled up Yuri's trouser leg, Cumore crossed his arms and leaned against the jeep in annoyance.

Yuri waited until Tweedle B had rubbed disinfectant on the wound and then wrapped fresh bandages around it to make his move. As soon as the cuff of his trouser leg was back at his ankle, his other foot shot up and smashed the Tweedle in the chin.

Yuri threw himself forward, tackling the startled Tweedle B. Cumore and Tweedle A startled to attention, but by the time they pulled out their guns, Yuri had yanked out the one from B's waist and twisted around so he sat on the ground with one arm hold Tweedle B against his chest and the other holding the gun against his captive's temple.

"Drop your guns!" Yuri yelled.

Tweedle A's gun hit the dust, but Cumore didn't move. His pistol pointed at Yuri's face while staring into him. Yuri felt slimy as the gaze seemed to be trying to read all his secrets.

"Put all your guns in the car and give me the keys." Yuri did not, in fact, know how to drive a car. He'd never even been _in_ a car until training. It stood to reason, though, that a lot of people in the world had driver's licenses but significantly fewer had pilot's licenses. Therefore, flying a plane was obviously the more difficult task. After all, a car only had two dimensions to worry about and fewer people shooting at you. So if he could fly a plane, he could drive a car, at least well enough to speed away to save his life.

"Or what?" Cumore asked.

Yuri pushed the pistol harder against Tweedle B's head. "Or I'll blow his brains out."

Cumore thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Go ahead."

Tweedle B made a small whimpering noise while Tweedle A gave Cumore an aghast look.

"Ich sage! Herr Kapitän -"

"Ruhig!" Cumore barked, and Tweedle A fell silently forlorn. To Yuri, Cumore smiled and said, "Go on, then. Shoot him. What's your plan from there?"

Yuri's arm tightened around the quivering Tweedle. "I'll really do it."

Tweedle B, who didn't understand English but could read body language and emotion well enough to understand that two people were condemning him to death, pleaded, "H-Herr Kapitän…bitte…."

Yuri locked eyes with Cumore as they each threatened the other to break. All it took to figure out who was going to win was a simple analysis of potential rewards. If Yuri shot Tweedle B like he was threatening, not only would Yuri have to kill a man who was just doing his job and had gently patched up his leg, but then he'd have a corpse and no more leverage. Cumore didn't give a rat's arse if he lost a private.

So what now? Turn the gun on Cumore? He didn't think he could pull of a shot before Cumore, who's finger rested on the trigger and obviously itched to lodge a bullet in his forehead.

"If you're not going to do it, put down the gun slowly. Keep it pointed away from us."

This was the only plan Yuri had. If he gave in now, he'd be in prison by supper. Judith and Flynn must be coming after him by now, but if he got back in the jeep and sped off there was no way they'd catch up. He wouldn't even want them to try breaking him out; it would be a suicide mission.

Yuri dropped his arm and let Tweedle B scurry away. His other arm lowered slowly, gun pointed down toward the jeep. When it was just low enough, he squeezed the trigger. The gun banged, echoed by the eruption of the tire. The whole jeep tilted as its wheel rapidly deflated with a burst of air.

Yuri dropped the gun in the dirt and held his hands up. "Oops. My finger slipped."

Cumore glowered, marched forward, and smacked him across the face with the side of the pistol.

Yuri's hand flew to his face. "What was that for?!"

"Move off the road."

Yuri's hand came away with fresh blood. It wasn't deep, but he had a new cut on his cheek and an ache that was the prelude to a bruise. He awkwardly shuffled backward, trying not to move his leg, until he was behind the jeep on the side of the road. There, he crossed his arms and leaned forward on his good knee. He'd bought some extra time, but he hoped it was enough.

Cumore leaned against the back of the jeep while the Tweedles pulled out the spare tire and set about replacing it.

"You would have let me kill your own man."

Cumore snorted. "You wouldn't have done it."

"I could have. You wouldn't care even if I did."

"Why should I? Soldiers die in a war. There's no point crying over it."

Yuri thought about all the friends he'd made in training and in his squadron who went on missions but didn't come back. If he cried every time someone he knew got shot down, he'd never get anything done, but that didn't mean he shouldn't at least care.

"You should have done it," Cumore said. "Then you could have used his body as a shield to take shots at me."

Yuri looked to the Tweedles a few feet away. They had no idea their CO was discussing how they should have been killed. "You're a piece of crap."

Cumore laughed. "Don't act so superior as if you haven't spent the war shooting my countrymen out of the sky."

"That's not the same as shooting a hostage at all." There had to be lines you wouldn't cross. He'd enlisted in a war and he knew that meant killing people, but opening yourself to killing enemy combatants didn't mean you had to be willing to kill just anybody. If you let yourself become someone without any rules, you'd become, well, something like Cumore. Yuri's most important rule was that you did not shoot people who weren't a threat. You shot the plane until it fell from the sky, but if you saw the pilots escaping in parachute, you left them alone.

And you didn't shoot an average soldier you'd taken hostage, who'd probably been drafted and didn't want to be here anyway. It wasn't his fault his government was screwed up and started this whole thing, and it wasn't his fault he'd been assigned to work under Cumore. If the Tweedles fought back during and escape attempt, that would be different, but just grabbing the guy and shooting him was over the line.

Yuri spotted a cloud of dust farther down the road and then looked back to Cumore. The mere fact that Cumore would have approved of killing Tweedle B was reason enough not to do it. By now the war had been going on for almost five years and Yuri wondered just how much bullshit this captain had pulled. Yuri hoped he was still alive when it was over, because he wanted to see the bastard brought to trial for his crimes.

The cloud of dust was getting closer and now Yuri could see a boxy, navy blue car barrelling down the road. Cumore watched it approach without worry. The Tweedles were just finishing tightening the replacement tire when the car screeched to a halt beside them.

Flynn and Judith leaned out the side windows and then the Germans dove for cover as bullets peppered the side of the jeep. Flynn threw open the back door.

"Yuri, get in!"

Yuri's knee screamed as he jumped up and ran. He felt Cumore's fingers graze his arm as the captain tried to grab him, but a few rapid shots from Judith forced him to duck for cover behind the jeep. Yuri could hear the whizz of air behind the gunshots as the tires were once again deflated by bullets. Yuri dove into the car and it was moving before Flynn even shut the door.

The driver was a white-haired man who plowed off the road to make a wide loop until they were speeding back the way they'd come. For the first few seconds, bullets pinged against the back of the car until they put too much distance between them. When the shooting stopped, Yuri raised his head and peered out the back window so see the three soldiers growing smaller in the distance next to their ruined jeep.

Yuri let out a breath and got comfortable on the leather bench in the back. "Flynn, you're a terrible shot."

Flynn holsters his pistol and then whipped his head to Yuri. "I learned to shoot with my right hand. It's hard to aim let-handed."

Judith twisted and leaned over the front seat. "Are you hurt?"

Yuri shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks."

"How did you get them to stop?" Flynn asked. "And why did he take you in the first place?"

Yuri spent a few minutes summarizing what had happened. When he was done, Flynn looked scandalized.

"He can't do that. Even if you're not in uniform, according to Article 93 of the Geneva Convention, you're entitled to wear civilian clothing to facilitate escape."

Yuri wasn't even surprised that Flynn knew the exact article. "I really don't think he cares about the Geneva Convention. He's just a horrible person who wanted to screw me over for not turning you in."

"Sounds typical of him," Judith said. "Captain Cumore has been in the village for a few months now and uses his position to demand food from people who are already starving. He just likes showing off his power. _By the way, Yuri, I haven't introduced you to Hanks_."

Hanks took his eyes off the road to wave.

"_Hey. I'd shake your hand but you should probably keep them on the wheel. This your car?_"

"_Sure is! I haven't driven it since the war started with petrol prices the way they are, but this seemed like a worthy cause_."

"_I appreciate it. You guys really saved my neck back there_. _ Where are we going now?_"

"_A village near the front_," Judith said. "_Hanks will drive us that far, and from there we'll walk_."

"I'm sorry," Flynn said, "but what are you all talking about?"

Yuri gave him a quick summary. "You should learn French."

"Yes, right, teach me the entire language during this car ride."

"Your French is very good, Yuri," Judith said. "Where did you learn?"

"There was a French guy who opened a shop near where I used to live. I learned the language so I could understand what he was saying and talk to him."

"You learned to talk to a friend? That's nice."

Yuri smirked. "I never said he was a friend. He was a complete bastard who took advantage of customers and insulted them behind their backs. I learned French so I could take away the satisfaction of insulting me without my knowing it."

"Hm, very practical."

Flynn leaned back and stared at the road behind them. "In any case, it will take a while before they can radio for help and get another jeep out there. We'll have a good head start."


	3. Escape

**Part III - Escape**

It was late afternoon when they arrived at a small farm house on the edge of a village. Hanks let them out and then said he was going to keep going and loop around on back roads to get home. Cumore knew what his car looked like and the bullet holes in the back were damning evidence, so leaving it parked outside was too risky.

Flynn ran to the house while Yuri, whose abuse of his leg had settled in during the long drive and left the limb a useless throbbing ache, had to wrap an arm around Judith's shoulders and hop one-footed. Inside, they were introduced to a young couple named Kellas and Teagle. A son watched them from the corner, and Kellas quickly drew the curtains shut when they were gathered in the kitchen.

"_There aren't many soldiers in the village now_," she explained as they all sat down. "_They're off fighting a few miles away. There might be some, though, so we'll be cautious._"

The young boy sat next to his parents and stared at Flynn and Yuri with curiosity. Yuri smiled at him and said, "_What's your name?_"

"_Pauly. You're pilots, right?_"

Yuri nodded. "_I am. Flynn is actually a navigator_. _That's for people who weren't good enough to become pilots!_"

Flynn looked over and said, "I heard my name, aviator, and navigator. Are you telling people I washed out of the pilot program again?"

"Me? I would never do that."

Flynn turned to Judith. "Mademoiselle Judith, could you please tell me what Yuri just said?"

Judith gave a small smile and said, "I wouldn't want to come between you."

Pauly and his parents watched blankly until Yuri looked back at them. "_Ok, I lied. Actually, being a navigator is really hard. You have to do a lot of math and science and read…_" Yuri faltered because the technical things Flynn had to know to navigate properly were beyond his grasp of French. "_His job takes more thinking and planning. He can tell exactly where in the world we are by looking at the stars and a…_" He glanced at Judith. "How do you say 'sextant' in French?"

"_Sextant_."

"Oh. That's easy. _Stars and a sextant. It's pretty amazing._"

Pauly frowned. "_What's a sextant?_"

Ok, maybe translating didn't matter anyway. "_It's a… thing._" Yuri made a triangle with his fingers. "_For checking angles._"

"_So he does boring math and you fly aeroplanes?_"

Yuri thought about this. He really did think Flynn was exceptionally talented and he certainly couldn't do anything at night without his partner watching the radar and manning the wireless. Yuri could never had handled all the classwork and training Flynn had gone through, and he fully deserved the commission that made him an officer. Flying had come naturally to Yuri and it had taken only a few months to feel like the plane was an extension of himself when he looped through the air. Flying took skill, sure, but it wasn't really _difficult_ the way Flynn's job was. "_Basically_."

"_You sound like you're really proud of him_," Judith said.

Yuri shrugged. "_He's a pretty amazing guy. He was still a few weeks away from being seventeen when he joined. Officially too young, but they didn't actually care. He worked really hard, too. Most officers are rich kids, and only the very top of the class gets offered a… what do you call it, a post as an officer._" He couldn't say 'commission' in English, of course, or Flynn would know he was talking about his achievements. Yuri spent a lot of time insulting Flynn to his face and he couldn't ruin it now.

Flynn just sighed and leaned back in his chair. "If you're still talking about me, I deny all of it." He closed his eyes and pressed his hand against his wounded arm.

As they talked, Kellas left the table to prepare food. Yuri felt the urge to jump up and offer assistance, but after gouging open his wound and walking around on his knee (and Cumore was hardly considerate while marching him to the jeep) he didn't think standing up was in his best interest.

"Judith," Flynn said, "please tell Kellas and Teagle I'm grateful for their hospitality and I hope they won't get in trouble for this."

She relayed the message and then Teagle nodded briefly. "_We've been part of the resistance for years. Besides, we've been hearing explosions all morning. The Allies will be here within a few days. The Germans have more things to worry about right now than people like us_."

Judith translated for Flynn's sake while Yuri thought about how stupid Cumore must be. The joint forces of the United States and the United Kingdom were bearing down on them and driving them out of France, and he was caught up with antagonizing one downed airman.

"_Our plan is to leave tonight,_" Judith said. "_We need to cut through the trees north of the village. Then we'll sneak past the guards at night and find Allied soldiers who can give us a ride to the hospital._"

"_That's going to be dangerous_," Teagle said.

Yuri explained the plan to Flynn, who then looked to Judith. "Are you coming with us?"

Judith nodded. "Of course."

"You might get hurt."

She raised her eyebrows. "As opposed to the rescue operation we pulled this morning? Besides, I don't have a choice. Cumore has proof I was harbouring airmen now, so I can hardly go back to my village before it's liberated. Plus, your government offers a reward for returning airmen."

Yuri gave her a look. "Is that why you were helping us? For the reward money?"

She smiled sweetly. "It certainly helps."

* * *

After supper, Yuri sat at the table with Pauly, feeling useless. Kellas had gone to get supplies from a friend while Teagle and Judith cleaned up the kitchen. Yuri was told to keep sitting, because they were going to be doing a lot of walking tonight and he needed to rest his leg as much as possible. Flynn stayed seated as well, and Yuri couldn't help noticing how pale he looked. Across the table, Pauly sat with his chin resting in his arms.

"_You're looking sad_," Yuri said.

Pauly's eyes swivelled up to him. "_I'm just…_" He glanced to his father at the kitchen sink. "_I'm thinking about what you guys were talking about at supper. About the fighting that's coming._"

"_Are you scared_?"

Pauly nodded. "_I don't really remember the first battle. When the Germans first came, I mean. Dad says there's going to be fighting in the village."_

Yuri nodded slowly. "_I know… it can be pretty scary when the fighting is happening around you_."

Pauly scowled. "_It's not scary for you. You're a soldier._"

"_I am now, but I wasn't a few years ago. I have a friend who was about your age when our city got bombed. We were all really scared_."

"_Even you?_"

Yuri smiled. "_Sure. Bombs falling from the sky would scare anyone. You know what I did?_"

"_What?_"

"_Exactly what the… what do you call them, _Air Raid Wardens…_ the people who make sure everyone is following the safety rules. We did exactly what they told us to do. When things got dangerous, we ran for cover and we stayed there until they said it was safe to come out. Even when it was pretty scary underground and I wanted to make a run for it instead of sitting there._"

"_And everything was ok?_"

"_Sure._" Except for Mr. and Mrs. Heurassein, who'd done exactly as they were supposed to and still didn't make it. Pauly didn't need to know about that. "_So when the fighting comes to your village, you need to do exactly as your parents tell you. If they tell you to hide inside, don't try to run away. You'll be all right. The man who's coming is called Colonel Whitehorse. He's freed a bunch of towns already. He's unstoppable._"

"_And you'll be there too, right?_"

"_Sure_." Not really. Invasions happened in daylight, while Yuri had made his career as a night fighter. "_Maybe the Germans will even run away as soon as they see the army coming_."

Pauly smiled. "_I really hope so_."

A few minutes later, the front door opened and Kellas hurried inside with a pair of crutches. "_A German captain arrived in town. He's searching all the houses. You need to leave now._"

"Damn, I thought we'd have more time," Yuri said.

Flynn looked between them. "What's happening?"

Yuri stood up with help from the table. "Cumore's here. Time to skedaddle."

Kellas handed the crutches to Yuri. "_Here. I stopped at the nurse's house for these._"

"_I can't take these. I won't have a way to give them back_."

Judith said, "_I'm not dragging a lame man through enemy territory. Take the crutches or stay here. You can return them after this village is liberated_."

"_Fine_." Yuri took them and positioned them under his arms. "Flynn, you ready to go?"

He nodded while Teagle opened the back door.

"_When they come here, we'll hold them up. We'll let slip that you're hiding here and keep them searching while you escape_."

"_Thanks._ Let's head out." Judith led the way out the door, followed by Flynn. Yuri looked back to give Pauly a smile and then hurried into the warm night.

Judith crept to the edge of the house and peeked around the corner before waving them across. Yuri moved as stealthily as he could while hobbling on crutches. The wooden feet seemed to land on every dry leaf. Flynn wasn't moving much faster, and he stopped to lean against a house and catch his breath after every dash across open space.

At the edge of the village was a stretch of about thirty feet to the trees. They sat on the dry grass behind a house, listening to shouts in German not too far away.

"We're going to need to make a run for it," Judith said.

Yuri glanced at his leg and then glanced at Flynn, whose eyes were closed. "Running might be asking too much. Flynn, are you all right?"

Flynn opened his eyes and nodded. "Yes. Just… tired."

Yuri scanned the meadow they needed to cross. The grass was just long enough that they might be able to hide under it. "We'll crawl. Go for stealth over speed. Sorry, but I don't think either of us is going to outrun anyone."

"You're right. Ok, follow me." Judith pressed herself into the ground and crawled on her stomach into the grass.

"You sure you're all right?" Yuri asked as Flynn hefted himself to follow.

Flynn hesitated for a moment and then said, "No, but I'll be even less all right if the Jerries catch us, so let's go."

They both moved slowly. Flynn had only one arm to work with while Yuri struggled to drag his leg and crawl with the crutches in hand. Stealth over speed, he reminded himself. A half-moon rose, making the field dark enough to creep through. Cumore and the Tweedles would still be banging on doors in the village now, and as long as they moved slowly and quietly, it didn't matter how long it took them to reach the trees.

Despite those thoughts, it still came as a relief when he passed into the darkness of the woods. He and Flynn leaned against trees to rest while Judith hid behind a bush and peered at the village.

"Let me see your arm," Yuri muttered.

"It'll hold out until we get to the hospital."

Yuri leaned over. "I said let me see it." He rolled up Flynn's sleeve and winced at the fresh red spot on the white bandages. "It's bleeding again."

"I know, but not excessively. I'll be fine."

Yuri frowned, but there wasn't anything to do now. They could hardly walk back to the village and ask for medical help. Whether or not Flynn could hold out until they reached the hospital, it was their only option.

"Merde," Judith whispered. "They're coming this way."

Yuri shot his head to the village and saw the beams of torches dancing over the field. "Keep moving."

"I think the German regiment is camped about half a mile east of us," Judith whispered. "But stay on guard just in case."

They darted from tree to tree, using the stars as a guide. Every time they came to a clearing, Flynn checked the sky to make sure they were still heading the right way. The forest was far too quiet for comfort, and Yuri wondered how many animals had run away as the cannons got closer.

Animals were the least of Yuri's concerns. Cumore and the Tweedles were behind them, an entire regiment of Germans was beside them, and their own infantry was in front of them. Yuri, who as an Air Force man had a dim view of any armed service member who kept their feet on the ground, didn't trust the brownjobs in the infantry not to shoot first and ask for ID never if they saw them sneaking into Allied territory.

They had to move slow. Flynn spent most of the trek clutching his arm and growing paler every time enough light made it through the trees to see his face. Yuri's crutches twisted on roots and he wobbled on the uneven ground.

They heard footsteps behind them. Yuri checked over his shoulder and saw the glow of torches through the trees. His heart skipped a beat; the Tweedles were catching up. "They're coming," he hissed. "Let's split up. There's three of us and two of them; at least one of us ought to make it."

There wasn't time to argue. Flynn and Judith scampered to the sides, leaving Yuri to keep going straight since he had the most trouble moving. They disappeared into the underbrush and Yuri dropped to the ground. He'd crawl and make himself as unnoticeable as possible.

Safety was so close he could taste it. He was still too exposed where he was, so he crawled toward a bush. If he sat tight until the Tweedles moved on, he could make a break for friendly territory. Yuri pulled himself over a root and began sliding into a hollow between the trunk and a neighboring bush.

"Halt, ich sage!" came a shout and then wood splinters dusted him as a bullet hit the trunk.

Yuri pulled himself the rest of the way behind the bush, but he didn't have a plan from there. Bullets would easily go through leaves and he didn't have the means to fight back or make a run for it. More bullets hit the ground so close that the dust hit him. The only thing he could do was surrender and make sure the Tweedles were preoccupied with him so Flynn and Judith could make a break for it.

Yuri shoved his arms in the air so they waved over the bush. "Don't shoot! Uh – shooten Sie nicht!"

"Steht auf!" Tweedle B shouted.

He was ninety-percent sure that had been 'stand up', but that was easier said than done. Yuri pushed against the ground and struggled to get upright without hurting his leg any more than it already was.

Another warning shot whizzed past his head. "Steht auf jetzt!"

"Christ, give me a second!"

Another gun fired, but this time it came from the right and made the Tweedles scatter. The air reeked of gunpowder as bullets flew through the trees. Flynn and Judith fired from both sides and Yuri was starting to think this was going to work out when he heard a grunt and a thud.

"Don't shoot!" Flynn shouted. "Nicht schießen!"

Footsteps stomped through the trees and more bullets came from Judith's side. Tweedle A ran to Yuri's hiding place while Tweedle B dragged Flynn into the clearing. Flynn clutched his arm and gritted his teeth, and a fresh streak of blood dripped down his shoulder.

"_Come out with your hands up!_" Tweedle A shouted in French. "_We will shoot your friends!_"

Yuri looked up at Tweedle A. "_You guys speak French?!_ _This could have saved me so much trouble!_"

Tweedle A ignored him until a pistol was thrown into the clearing and Judith stepped into view with her hands raised and her head held higher.

"_I was out of bullets anyway_."

Tweedle A pulled Yuri out from behind the bush and said something to B. They had a brief discussion in German while Judith sat next to Yuri.

"Sorry," she said in a low voice.

"It's all right." He should be the one apologizing. It was their fault she'd been pulled into this mess, and she would be in more trouble if caught. Unlike Yuri and Flynn, she actually _was_ a target for the Gestapo with all her resistance activity.

Tweedle B ripped the sleeve off Flynn's shirt. The new wound wasn't as bad as the first; it looked like a bullet had grazed the skin without actually penetrating. Blood was soaking the bandage, though, because it seemed that at some point in today's activity, Judith's amateur stitches had come undone.

"_Sit still_," Tweedle A said to Yuri and Judith. "_We will attend to your friend first_."

They had time. A few minutes perhaps, but it was something they could work with. There were more soldiers back in the village and once they were in Cumore's custody, there wasn't much they could do. He felt guilty for thinking it, but he hoped Flynn's injury was serious enough to hold them up for as long as possible.

"_Maybe this is for the best_," Yuri said casually to Judith.

"_Why do you say that?_"

"_We're still about sixty miles to the airfield and the RAF. We'll have to deal with the army first, and they might shoot us on sight._"

Judith cocked her head. "_Your own men?_"

"_It's the colonel in charge, Whitehorse. He's ruthless and the sentries along the front might have orders to shoot anyone on sight._"

"_I heard you mention him at supper. Is he really that bad?_"

Yuri cast a quick look to the Tweedles to check if they were listening. "_He's a great commander but he's a real butcher. According to rumour, he had a wife and daughter who were killed in the Coventry bombing a few years back. His son was killed on the beach back in June. He's basically an unstoppable mountain of anger toward Germans. I heard he unofficially told his officers not to take any prisoners._"

"_My goodness. And everyone says the British are so polite_."

"_It's not all of us. My Squadron Leader, Niren, is a great guy. Any Luftwaffe pilots shot down over our territory are treated well, I know for a fact. I'd much rather get captured by the Air Force than the Army._"

Judith yawned and stretched her legs. "_Doesn't really matter to me. Maybe I should make a run for it and force them to shoot me. It would probably be better than going to the Gestapo_."

"_Could be. I don't think they'd spare you for being a woman_."

"_Not likely. After all the trouble you've caused Cumore, I bet he'll find some excuse to accuse you of being spies still._"

"_Looks like all three of us have getting tortured to death to look forward to. Lucky us._"

"_Maybe only two of us. I doubt Cumore will put any priority in getting Flynn to proper medical treatment. He'll bleed out within hours._"

The Tweedles finished replacing the blood-stained bandage on Flynn's arm and then stood up. They looked down at their prisoners and Yuri hid a satisfied smile at the apprehension on their faces.

Tweedle B looked up at his taller companion and then said something in German. They huddled close and had a hurried conversation which included a lot of glances at Yuri and Judith and even more mentions of Cumore.

Yuri crawled closer to Flynn, lying in the leaves. "How're you doing?" he whispered.

Flynn cracked his eyes open and took a deep breath. "I can't believe I got shot twice."

Yuri cracked a grin. "What did I tell you about that photo? It's a bullet magnet."

The Tweedles turned around and glanced at each other, each urging the other to speak first.

"_We've been discussing…_"

"_And we've decided this is for the best_."

"_We'd like to… well…_."

"_I say, please accept our surrender!_"

"_We didn't want any of this!_" Tweedle B said. "_We enlisted to help our country, but Herr Kapitän Cumore is taking it too far. Giving downed airmen to the Gestapo is a crime!_"

"_Plus, he would have let you kill Boccos,_" Tweedle A said.

Boccos nodded fervently. "_And we don't want to be accused of being complicit in his crimes. He would have had us shot for disobeying orders, but transporting you to the Gestapo is wrong._"

"_Take us as your prisoners. The war isn't going to last much longer anyway, and I'd rather surrender now than fight civilians in the village._"

And though they were too proud to say it, Yuri was willing to bet part of the conversation in German had been about the pros and cons of surrendering to the Air Force versus waiting for the evil Colonel Whitehorse to slaughter them. Yuri didn't actually know anything about Whitehorse other than that he was the leader of the nearest infantry regiment and had a reputation as a firm but fair commander, but the Tweedles didn't need to know that.

"_Very well, I accept your surrender_," Yuri said. After Judith helped him to his feet, he added, "_Give us your weapons_."

Flynn stared up at them in confusion and wearily said, "Someone please explain in English."

"We're taking them prisoner."

"We're what?"

"They're our captives now." Judith took the rifles and pistols from the soldiers.

Flynn turned his head to his bloody arm. "How much blood did I lose? Am I delirious?"

"I'll explain later." Yuri leaned on the crutch and then gave Flynn a hand to his feet. Flynn wavered and Tweedle A caught him. "_Oh – I'm supposed to get your names and ranks and stuff_, _but I think that can wait until we get back to our side_."

Judith led the way with her arms full of guns. Flynn leaned on Tweedle A for support, which wasn't how taking prisoners was supposed to go. Yuri limped along in the rear, struggling to keep up until they made it out of the woods and into another field. At the end of the field was a hedge, and when they were about twenty feet from it, bullets peppered the dirt in front of them.

"Drop your weapons!" came a shout and Judith let the rifles fall to the ground as she raised her arms.

"Don't shoot!" Yuri shouted, hurrying to the front as fast as he could. "We're on your side!"

"Oh, yeah?" the voice called back. "Then what's Babe Ruth's batting average?"

Yuri stared blankly at the hedge and then looked to Flynn for help.

Flynn frowned and then said, "I think he's a baseball player. I heard him mentioned in Canada."

"Bloody Americans," Yuri muttered. Louder, he called, "We're British, you idiots! I don't know anything about baseball! But you might notice I'm speaking English very fluently with an obvious English accent. The lieutenant here is injured and we need to get to the hospital right away."

There was more discussion behind the hedge and then they were told, "All right, approach slowly and show us your dog tags."

Yuri had a brief mental image of his tags disappearing into Cumore's pocket. "I don't have mine. They were confiscated."

"What? They can't do that. That's illegal."

"I'll be sure to let him know."

"I have mine." Flynn fumbled at his neck with his good arm.

Judith stepped forward and let him lean on her as he made his way forward. When they got close, rifles and helmeted heads poked over the hedge . He pulled the cord from his neck and held it over the hedge. "I'm Lieutenant Flynn Scifo, 604th Squadron, RAF Second Tactical Air Force, and this is Flight Sergeant Yuri Lowell, from the same. His tags were confiscated by a German officer trying to frame him as a spy. We got shot down two nights ago and need to get back to the airfield up at Picauville. Actually, the nearest field hospital would be better. I've been shot."

"And who're they?" One of them – a corporal based on the chevrons on his sleeve – gestured at Judith and the Tweedles with his gun. "Why you got krauts with you?"

"Judith is a French civilian who helped us escape. These two… sorry, I didn't get their names… are our prisoners."

The Americans exchanged a glance. "Your… prisoners? You're coming back with prisoners?"

"That's right," Yuri said. "They surrendered to me and I'm taking them into custody."

After another confused stare, the Americans broke into laughter. "I don't think anyone's ever escaped enemy territory _with prisoners_ before." He handed the tags back. "All right, get over here and we'll give you a lift."

There was a gap in the hedge a few yards away which they quickly crossed. On the other side, a pair of privates ran to Flynn to help him stay upright on the way to a jeep. Yuri didn't think he had ever been so happy to be surrounded by Americans.

* * *

It was close to midnight when they arrived at the cluster of tents in a field, all with big white crosses on the tops. The Americans said farewell and Yuri found himself in the care of his own army. He suddenly realized that despite the pain, frustration, and near miss with torturous death, the last few days had been a nice reprieve from structure. Somehow, even without his uniform on, he seemed to radiate the message 'I am a sergeant who has not been given orders in the past two days', and officers raced to fix that.

He had everything under control, he wanted to argue, but the presence of German soldiers required an officer to swoop in and take command. The Tweedles were shuttled off, presumably to be sent to some prison camp in England to wait out the rest of the war.

Meanwhile, a group of women in blue dresses ran toward them with a stretcher. The nurses took a quick look at Flynn's arm and Yuri's leg and easily decided Flynn was the more pressing concern. They ignored his protests that he could certainly walk and carried Flynn away without another word.

"He's going to be fine," Judith said with a smile.

Yuri pulled his eyes away from the tent flap Flynn had been taken through. "Huh?"

"You look worried."

"I know he will be."

"Yuri!" A new voice shouted his name and dashed between the rows of tents toward him. Seconds later, Estelle crashed into him and nearly knocked him over. "It's really you! I heard the other girls say a couple of injured airmen had made it back, but I didn't know – I mean, I didn't want to get my hopes up…"

Yuri didn't let go of his crutches as she clung to him. "Heh, yes, it's me. Flynn is all right, too."

Estelle pulled away, but she wasn't satisfied yet. She looked Yuri up and down, took in the crutches, the dirt smudged into his clothes, and the dark purple bruise under his eye from where Cumore had struck him, and declared, "Come with me right now. I'll get you patched up."

Estelle was in a nightgown and had apparently been sleeping when they arrived, but this didn't seem to bother her as she led him and Judith into another tent.

"This is Judith, by the way," Yuri said as he sat in a chair. "She helped us get back."

"Then I owe you my thanks," Estelle said with a smile. "Oh, Yuri, I was so worried. Your friends at the airfield let me know when you didn't come back from your mission and I feared the worst." She rolled up his leg and examined his swollen knee. "I already sent letters to Karol and Rita, though, right after I found out. I'll have to write them again right away and hope the post goes through quickly. I'd hate for them to worry." She replaced the bandages on his knee and then inspected the gash on his leg. "My goodness, what happened to your leg?"

"That's partially my fault. I got hit by some shrapnel but widened it later."

Her head shot up. "What did you do that for? Tell me the whole story."

Estelle dutifully cleaned him up with Yuri explained everything that had happened, from chasing the Luftwaffe plane too far to nearly getting shot by Americans for not knowing enough about baseball. When he was done, he had a freshly cleaned and dressed leg and new clothes.

Still on crutches, the three of them headed to the medical tent to find Flynn. He lay in bed with his arm in a sling, but he was awake and smiled when he saw them.

"Estelle. It's good to see you."

"Yuri told me everything."

He shuffled and sat up in bed. "We've had an adventurous couple of days."

"Did they tell you where you're going now?"

Flynn nodded. "I'm going to be transferred to a military hospital in England for a few weeks until my arm heals. What about you, Yuri?"

He shrugged. "No one's told me yet, but considering I can't walk I'm guessing I have a couple weeks of leave to look forward to." It was a tricky area, because he wasn't injured enough to need hospitalization, but he couldn't perform his duties, either.

"What about you, Judith?" Flynn asked.

She crossed her arms and shrugged. "Maybe I'll see about going to England with you. I can't go back to my village for another month or so. Who knows, maybe it will be a nice getaway."

Yuri found a chair and rested his leg. "You know, what's really important to take away from all this is that the score now stands at me getting shot zero times and Flynn getting shot twice."

Flynn glared at him. "I got shot saving your life, you know."

Yuri's smile said it all, freeing his mouth to scoff, "I would've been fine." He gingerly stretched his leg and yawned. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay. Estelle, can we take those empty beds?"

"Oh, sure. Unless any more wounded come in, they're free. You're right, you've been up for a long time and you've had a very stressful day."

"Excellent." Yuri took the closest bed and melted into the mattress. It was only a mattress in the sense that it was on a bed and was softer than the springs below, but after a day of getting shot at and arrested, it was a cloud. He'd get a couple weeks of R and R after this - maybe he'd be able to pay Karol a visit.

But he'd be back. This was just a sprain and would hardly put him out of the war. The war often felt slightly unreal when he experienced it in the sky and through radar screens, but crashing down into the thick of it had made him more determined than ever to help the people he'd met.

"I'll leave you to sleep." Estelle pulled the blanket up to Yuri's chin and hugged him again. "I'm glad you made it back safely."

Yuri smirked. "So am I."

She left and Yuri rolled on his side. "You know… I'm rather disappointed we didn't get to see Paris. I've always heard it's a nice city."

Flynn's droll voice cut through the darkness. "Yes, Yuri, I'm sure it would have been lovely. I'm so sorry we interrupted your trip."

"You ever been to Paris, Judy?"

"A couple of times. It's nice enough. A little crowded."

"Let's go sometime, Flynn. We can take Estelle and Karol and Rita, too."

Judith said, "The trip might be a little disappointing right now, what with all the Nazis."

Flynn yawned and said, "Nazis do tend to sober an otherwise enjoyable outing. We'll go when the war is over."

Yuri stared into the darkness of the tent. He'd heard those last five words frequently in the past few years, but they were finally at a point when he could see them coming to fruition. They'd broken into Fortress Europe and were making their way steadily into the continent. It couldn't be long now until a trip to Paris really might be possible. With a twinge of a smile, he said, "Right. When the war is over."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you're historically inclined, you may be interested in looking up the real life 604th squadron which will give you some idea of what Yuri and Flynn were up to before and after this story.


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